


With Flying Colors

by AdelineAround



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Connor, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Past Tense, Power Dynamics, Teasing, Top Hank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 18:47:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16838314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdelineAround/pseuds/AdelineAround
Summary: University student Connor is stressing about his finals this time of year.Thankfully, his literature professor, Hank Anderson, is understanding enough to let him take the final exam early... on one condition, that is.





	With Flying Colors

**Author's Note:**

> I was stressing about finals, so here's a little something to ease the anxiety.

_Don't stress out, just breath. Come on, Connor, get it together!_

Connor Stern slumped in his class seat, suddenly overwhelmed with what life had to offer him.

He knew finals were coming up, knew that he would have several all-nighters of studying; knew that he would be screaming at his textbook for hours before he passed out… only to get up and do the same thing again- rinse and repeat.

Connor looked at his agenda on Google Calendars for the fifth time in a row. A low groan threatened to rumble from his throat, worry beginning to cloud his best judgment. Why did all of his professors have to schedule class finals on the same day? One after the other? It did not make sense. Connor thought, surely, they could have coordinated finals week a little better.

Who was he kidding, though? Finals were impossible to schedule right. At least, that is what his professor, Mr. Anderson, had claimed last lecture. Then again, that was when Connor did not have as many stressful classes as he did now. And, unfortunately for him, he was feeling himself crack under pressure.

 _There has to be a way to get around this_ , Connor panicked. He needed to reschedule his finals; else he would quite possibly implode with a full day of nothing but final exams. He might even die, he bemoaned himself dramatically.

Connor pushed a hand through his slightly wavy, dark hair. _I'm going to have to talk to Hank- err, Mr. Anderson about this. He would understand my problem, wouldn't he?_

Perhaps, or perhaps not, because Mr. Anderson’s literature class was extremely difficult for most students. How Connor managed to pass his tests and quizzes with flying colors was a miracle in itself. No one would question why, for they would already know the reasoning as soon as they laid one eye upon the English literature professor.

Mr. Anderson ( _or just call him “Hank”_ , Connor thought) was the most attractively gruff teacher on campus. Though no one fawned over his solid, sturdy body, Connor did. His smile was absolutely stunning, though rare to come by. There was not one day where Connor did not find Mr. Anderson to be, well, _not_ hot in some way. For Connor, his literature professor was a walking wet dream and, because of that, he did everything in his academic power to memorize everything that came out of Mr. Anderson’s mouth. All his classmates must have known that by now; Connor was always one to participate in discussion, no matter which topic it was about.

“Oh god,” Connor could feel himself getting riled up, so to speak, just thinking about Mr. _Hank Anderson._ He was in class right now, damn it, and he didn't have time to fantasize about the man lecturing at the front of the classroom. Not now, not until he got back to his dorm room.

“Mr. Stern,” Connor’s head snapped up to look his professor in the eye. A frown was imminent upon Mr. Anderson’s lips. The man gulped. It was just his luck to be called out in front of all his classmates. “Is there a problem with my lecture?”

“N-no, not at all,” he managed to spit out, but his hands shook with nerves. He hoped his response was adequate enough for his teacher.

A smirk replaces the frown upon Mr. Anderson’s face, only threatening to grow wider.

“Then, perhaps you can tell us what the last passage of _The Art of War_ really entails.”

“I, uh,” Connor did not have an answer, too shocked at the fact that Mr. Anderson was putting him in the spotlight. He did not like being the center of attention, not like this. “Um,”

Deciding to spare his student some embarrassment, Mr. Anderson shook his head and smiled, “Come see me after class, Mr. Stern.”

“... Yes, sir,” Connor finally grumbled, flopping back in his seat when Mr. Anderson continued the lecture. He had not known he was sitting up, straight as a board.

The rest of class went by in a blur, as Connor was unable to focus on anything but Mr. Anderson and his… gorgeous dad bod. Connor was also pretty sure he was not the only one not paying attention to anything but his teacher’s physique; there were always a few girls in the back who fawned over Mr. Anderson during each lecture.

By the time Connor’s classmates had started packing up for their next lecture, he was still lost in thought.

“Mr. Stern,” his professor called. “Mr. Stern… Connor,”

Shaking himself out of his stupor, Connor stood from his seat. “Uh, huh? Yeah, um, sorry, Mr. Anderson.” He grimaced, reprimanding himself silently for zoning out.

Mr. Anderson seemed to notice it, too, because he raises an eyebrow at Connor, saying, “You never struck me as the type to gaze off into space during class.”

“Ah,” Connor flushed with shame. He was always been a good student, especially when Mr. Anderson was teaching. Unfortunately, today seemed like a break of rules. “Sorry. I don't know what came over me. Just…” he trailed off, not knowing what excuse he currently was coming up with.

Mr. Anderson smiled, and the world seemed to stop. “You must be goin’ haywire with all the finals coming up,” he deduced, and Connor found himself nodding in agreement.

That was it. He was stressed about final exams. It wasn't that he was intentionally staring at his teacher like a sexy piece of meat. Sure. That was totally the reason… or half of it, at least.

“Yeah, I mean, that's what I wanted to talk to _you_ about, actually,” Connor took the opportunity to veer the conversation in the right direction that his _mind_ wanted to go, not his _dick._

“Talk to me, why?” Mr. Anderson lifted a brow and waited for an explanation.

“Mr. Anderson, you know I _never_ do this, but I'm asking for a favor, please.”

Hank Anderson crossed his arms over his chest, but his face looked thoroughly amused at Connor’s request. “Depends on what the favor is, Mr. Stern.”

“Just,” Taking a breath, Connor sighed, “Just ‘Connor’ is fine. I, uh, class isn't in session, so you can call me by my first name.”

But Mr. Anderson chuckling was something Connor was not expecting; nevertheless, he does it, catching his student off guard.

“Well, if you gotta be like that then, _Connor_ ,”

God, never had Connor’s name sounded so erotic before.

Connor gulped. “O-okay,”

“So, is it about finals?” Mr. Anderson (though Connor is already calling him _Hank_ in his mind already) asked, gesturing for Connor to come closer, instead of standing near his desk.

Connor realized Hank was talking about his favor, and the student shifted his eyes down at the floor. “Would there be any way I could take your exam… Oh, I don't know,” Flustered, Connor looked into Hank’s cerulean blue for some type of confirmation. Anything. “-Maybe later? After my other finals?”

Hank seemed to contemplate the suggestion, but then replied, “No can do, Connor. School makes it so I have to get the results in on that same day,”

Ah, that was it. But Connor would not back down. He could not. He did not want to die during finals, or cause himself an ulcer, even though those were only seasonal and not directly induced by stress like everyone thought they were twenty years ago.

“What about earlier, then? You wouldn't have to worry about getting the exam scores in late, because I would have already taken it,” he offered.

“I don’t know,” started Hank, but his student was quick to interrupt him.

“Please,” Connor begged. He did not care if he had to plead, so long as he got what he wanted. “Please, Mr. Anderson. I’ll do anything. Just, if I could ask for your help…” He didn’t know what he was saying, Connor realized, so he opted to clack his jaw shut.

A stern look came over the professor’s face, putting a deep pang of anxiety within Connor’s gut. Would Mr. Anderson really not have time to make an exception for him? He was the best in his class, participated in every lecture when he could; made sure he would ace each exam and quiz with no sweat. Did his teacher not see his hard effort?

“Connor,”

Connor looked up, only to find Hank a foot from him. God, they were so close. He kept his breathing in check.

Sure, maybe he had a crush on his professor. Who would he be if he did not, when his teacher was this hot? That did not mean, however, he was going to get all fidgety and blush when Hank stood point-blank in front of him.

“I may have another way,” the professor said. “For you to take the final.”

“Really?” Connor felt a small tidal wave of relief wash over him. The muscles in his neck began to relax… only to tense up again when Hank cupped a palm to Connor’s cheek, thumb stroking the skin there softly.

There was a glint in Hank’s eyes that Connor had never seen before.

“Of course,” Hank grinned without an ounce of innocent mirth, and a shock of arousal struck through Connor’s core. He shivered as he heard his teacher say, “You can take the final _right now_.”

“I haven’t even studied yet,” Connor responded, but Hank’s hand began trailing from his cheek to his jaw, then to his neck.

Forehead lifting into fine lines, the professor found Connor’s reply amusing. “If anyone is to pass my final exam without studying adequately, it’s you.” He watched as his student’s Adam’s Apple bobbed. “How do you want this, Connor?” he asked, question sounding so sweet that it might have charmed both Connor and Hank himself. “I see how you look at me in class.”

If he could emit steam from his ears and face, Connor’s worm glasses would have been completely foggy by now. His whole body felt hot under Hank’s sharp gaze, his teacher’s hand still circled loosely around the back of his neck. He was not sure _how_ he wanted to do this with Hank. He just knew he wanted the man.

“I…” Connor dared not look away this time. “I want… anything. I’ll stick to my word: I’ll do anything.”

"Anything, you say..?" But it was not a question, more of a reiteration on Hank’s end. His grin was morphing into a smirk. "Then I'd like you obey anything I say from this point on,” he said simply.  
  
What? Hank wanted Connor to obey him? He was not rebelling against his professor whatsoever; what did Hank mean by that?  
  
"Come here," beckoned Hank.

He crooked a finger at Connor, eyes seemingly darkening in hue. They were so close already, but Connor did not dare to defy his teacher. Not when this was happening. And, by god, it was going to happen- Hank was giving him something like bedroom eyes.

"Come here, Connor."  
  
Quickly, Connor sprung to action. He was not going to leave his professor waiting.

Inching forward, Connor pressed closer until both their chests were touching. He could see the emerald flecks within the beautiful blue color of Hank's eyes from here, could make out the line of his strong jaw from under his silvery beard as he smirked. The man was even more handsome up close. Compared to Hank, Connor felt lanky and awkward. The professor possessed a sturdy build; a hearty gut around the waist with a strong torso and arms. Connor wanted to feel them wrap around him, to squeeze until he felt the blood rush in his ears.  
  
A low chuckle vibrated through Hank’s chest, and then the two men were kissing. It was just a touch of lips at first. Connor struggled to keep himself still; his immediate reaction was to pull away and push his teacher back, but Hank was his crush. The fact that Connor was kissing him now had endorphins bursting through him. He felt his eyes shut, reveling in the feel of Hank’s lips upon his.  
  
They kissed, moved against each other. It was only when Connor felt Hank's warm hands around his biceps did the kiss deepen, his professor holding him in place. The older man's tongue slithered out to tease at Connor’s lower lip, begging for entrance. Connor opened his mouth eagerly, wanting what Hank would give him.  
  
He moaned when their tongues came in contact with one another. This was nothing like what he thought it would be, but Connor could not detest it, either.

It was hot and slick, so sensual. Maybe it had something to do with Hank being older and, therefore, more experienced. Nevertheless, Connor did his best to reciprocate enthusiastically, battling for dominance with the man. The kiss was intoxicating, suffocating, and Connor couldn't get enough of it.  
  
Eventually, though, they broke apart in favor for much needed oxygen. A pretty blush had settled over Connor’s face. His cheeks were warm, and the tips of his ears were absolutely burning. They were _kissing_ , something that Connor would have never thought he would do with Hank.

“Mr. Anderson,” The words slipped from Connor’s lips. He wasn't aware that he had said it until he saw the professor’s reaction. “I mean-”

Pushing back his platinum bangs, Hank groaned aloud, “That mouth of yours, Connor. My god,”

“Um,” Did Hank like Connor?

Clearly, or they wouldn't be kissing right now. But did he like being addressed with formalities, or was that too awkward in a situation like this?

“Call me that again,” Hank said.

Connor was quick to obey. “Mr. Anderson, _please_.”

With that, the man twirled Connor around, spinning him until he was facing the classroom whiteboard.

“Lean over,” Connor made to do so, bending over his teacher’s desk. His hips were jutted out just slightly, the hard wood surface cool against his cheek. “Good,” Hank praised, hands sliding up against Connor’s sides.

Connor’s pants were growing irritable. There was too much clothing for his taste, but he knew there were windows; anyone could see them.

Wiggling his hips, he tried to tell Hank, “Mr. Anderson, the blinds. The door. Anyone could come in,”

“And?” Though this was true, Hank did not look like he particularly minded the possibility of being caught by a student or another professor. However, the way the literature professor made the situation sound had Connor’s heart beating with terrified excitement. “They'd walk in and see me grinding against this lovely ass of yours,” To prove his point, Hank pressed his crotch flush against Connor’s pert bottom. “Wouldn't you like that? To be seen while I fuck you into oblivion? You'd be at my mercy, and there wouldn't be anything they can do except watch us fucking each other.”

Connor mewled softly at Hank’s crass words. He could feel Hank’s cock straining at the zipper, rubbing over the globes of Connor’s clothed ass. What would feel like inside of him? The thought exhilarated him, and he suddenly wanted more.

But Hank drew back, much to Connor’s disappointment. Instead, the professor hurried to the class door, locking it firmly before moving to the windows next.

“I'll spare you this time, Connor,” he said with a bit of mock haughtiness in tone. “I just want to have you to myself right now.”

 _Yes_ , thought Connor. He was going to have Hank to himself _and_ pass his final; he couldn’t have been more blessed. He pressed his face to the desk, attempting to get his nerves in check.

“Turn around. On your knees,” Hank leaned over and whispered into Connor’s ear, nipping the lobe gently.

“Okay,” nodded Connor, sliding off the table and sinking to his knees.

“You mean, ‘yes’,” Hank corrected him when his student turned to face him. Those dark eyes of Connor’s had him transfixed, staring up at him like he was the only thing that mattered to Connor.

“Yes,” Connor complied.

“‘Yes’, what?”

Connor drank in the sight of Hank, almost forgetting his words before he managed to muster up, “Y-yes, sir.”

“Good boy,” Hank praised him, and he felt a pang of satisfaction run through him. “Come take your exam.”

Hank made to undo his pants, sliding the zip down its track slowly. Connor could swear he was drooling at the sight, unable to do anything but watch as his teacher unraveled his semi-hard rod from its confines. The younger man shuffled along the floor, wanting to bury his face in Hank’s groin. His professor was wearing thin, grey boxers that buttoned up in the front. Connor wanted to nothing more than slip those buttons out of the loop and swallow Hank’s cock whole.  
  
Nearly smashing his face into Hank’s groin, Connor inhaled his professor's natural musk, tongue darting out to lave at the warmed fabric of Hank’s boxers. He could feel Hank’s dick twitch under his ministrations; a good sign that the man was enjoying what Connor was giving.  
  
"You're a fuckin’ tease," Hank gruffed, grabbing Connor’s tapered jaw and holding him in place. He quickly shoved his boxers down, giving a breath when his cock sprung up from it. "If you're going to suck it, then do it properly."  
  
"Yes, Mr. Anderson," Connor bit his lip, admiring the thick girth of Hank’s member. It was perfect; bigger than he imagined, and curved slightly upwards, as if for aesthetic appeal.  
  
When Hank let him go, he made to kiss the tip of that cock, intentionally breathing hot puffs of air against it. A low growl reminded him to get on with his actions. Closing his eyes, Connor took the chance to wrap his plush lips around Hank.  
  
"Fuck," he heard the man swear, Hank hips jerking at the sudden heat of Connor’s mouth.  
  
Connor savored the salty flavor of Hank’s precum, the taste of it getting more complex as he began to bob his head up and down the professor’s cock. He took it slowly, hollowing his cheeks as he went further. Connor could feel his muscles tensing when the head of it tickled the back of his throat. There was still so much of Hank’s engorged length to take in.  
  
Fresh tears sprung from Connor’s dark eyes, but he kept going, the action deemed invigorating. He traced the vein at the underside of Hank’s cock with fervor, determined to please his professor. Above him, Hank groaned, one of his hands reaching down to caress the back of Connor’s head. The younger man leaned into the touch, relaxing his jaw enough to allow Hank to thrust into his mouth.  
  
And thrust he did. Connor felt like he was borderline choking, but did not want to stop. Letting Hank use him, the dick in his mouth thrust in and out, the pace almost uncaring. A film of that briny flavor collected upon his tongue as the dick in his mouth continued to ravage his hot cavern. The tears in his eyes ran down his cheeks in thin rivulets, dripping off his chin.

He was an absolute mess, yet Hank proclaimed, "You look like the beautiful slut you are.”

  
If Connor’s mouth wasn't so full of cock, he would have let out a sob of arousal. Was Hank just as kinky as he was? Neither of them looked it, but he certainly was not opposed to incorporating a little dirty talk into this "final exam". A whine escaped him when the thrusting stopped, though, and he wanted nothing more than to gag on Hank’s dick again. He surged forward, trying to capture the professor's cock with his lips.  
  
"Whoa, hold on now," Hank smiled wickedly. "Eager much?"  
  
Connor hummed softly. "More than you will ever know,"  
  
A “hmph” came from Hank, who then said, "Then, get up on that desk of mine and strip."

Hopping back up on the desk, Connor could not seem to control his rapidly increasing heartbeat. He wanted this so bad. Unbuttoning his jeans, he shuffled out of them, licking his lips as he watched Hank stroke his thick cock.

Connor wondered if he should take off his briefs too; he shucked them down his thighs as an afterthought, since Hank already had his own dick out for display. The article of clothing would only hinder their future plans of action.

“Legs up. Spread them for me, Con.”

Doing so, Connor felt his cock jump against his stomach under his professor’s gaze. It was excruciatingly arousing, being put on display like this for Hank.

“You’re so good,” Hank commented, bringing three fingers up to Connor’s mouth. “Suck them, or they’re going in dry.”

The possibility that Hank might just shove three unlubricated digits into him made Connor wriggle on the desk. He did not know if he was scared or turned on. Probably both.

Taking them gingerly into his mouth, Connor coated each finger with a generous amount of saliva. Goddamn, even Hank’s fingertips tasted wonderful. He wanted more; to be fucked in his mouth, his ass... he didn’t care, but wanted it done.

“What a sweet little thing,” Hank cooed gently, withdrawing his lovely fingers. He placed them at Connor’s puckered entrance. “You’re gonna be so wrecked by the time I’m done with you.”

“Please,” Connor hissed, rolling his head back onto the desk as the first finger pressed into him.

There was a slight burn, as spit did not make the best of lubricants, but it was genuine and real. Connor took it like a champ, chest heaving as he felt and felt and _felt_. A second digit wiggled its way in somewhere along the mix, causing Connor to moan. The scissoring motions within him had to be one of his favorites. But, as much as he wanted to be stretched to completion, he longed for Hank’s hard cock at the same time.

Soon, all three fingers were sheathed inside the young man. Connor was not expecting the jolt of pleasure that shocked his body when a little bundle of nerves inside him was touched.

“Ah!” he moaned, eyes snapping open in surprise.

Hank looked devilish above him, his fingers sliding in and out of his student. “You like it?”

“Mmn,” Connor could not find the words to describe the pleasure he was feeling.

“I asked you a question, Connor. You don’t want to fail your final, do you?” Hank warned.

Swallowing shallowly, Connor struggled to piece together a sentence, “Y-yes, sir. I love it.”

“You want my cock in you, sweetheart?” The next question came, sending Connor’s mind into a frenzy.

“Yesss,” moaned Connor as his prostate was hit again by the tips of Hank’s fingers. When they slipped out of him, he fought back a pout, wanting more.

“Patience, Con,”

Connor gawked when he felt something blunt and hot tap the entrance of his hole. Oh god, was that..?

“Fuck, baby,” With that, Hank pushed forward.

Connor gasped, forcing his muscles to relax. He couldn’t believe it; Hank was driving into him, inch by inch. The pain ebbed into pleasure slowly as Hank slid to the hilt. It was so much, he was so full.

“Mr. Anderson,” Connor begged with pleading eyes. His legs were thrown over Hank’s shoulders, keeping the younger man in place while Hank picked up the pace.

It felt so good. It _was_ so good. Connor cried out in pleasure, almost uncaring if anyone heard them from the hallways. It was only when Hank’s palm clasped over his lips did Connor realize he was being too loud.

“You’re enjoying this so much, Connor,” noted Hank. “I can’t wait to see you come.”

With that, Connor’s mouth was released in favor of Hank rolling the man’s balls as they fucked. Connor flailed, finally anchoring himself by grappling at Hank’s hips, holding on like weak tendrils. He was bent in half when his professor leaned forward, silencing him with a sloppy kiss.

Teeth clashed, bodies moving in sync with each other. It was hot, scorching with both their shirts on, but neither men seemed to care. Hank drew his hand up, wrapping it around Connor’s stiff, neglected cock.

“Con,” he moaned against his student’s lips. Stroking him with vigorous pumps, Hank could almost tell when Connor was about to come.

Connor sobbed into the kiss, abdomen tightening as release called not too far away. He clenched around the girth within him, ass jiggling with every slap of Hank’s hips. His breath was so moist, much like his eyes.

“‘M gonna,” he forewarned a bit too late.

And then he was coming, spraying his seed over his shirt and into Hank’s warm hand. His head was in the clouds, so high up that Connor could see stars burst behind his eyelids, like fireworks in the night sky. His ears were muffled, like they were stuffed with cotton. His breathing ceased in that moment, too taken away by the sheer force of his orgasm.

Connor floated back down from cloud nine as soon as Hank grunted, yanking out of the younger man before splatters of pearlescent cum landed on the edge of the desk, dripping onto the linoleum classroom floor.

They stayed like that, catching their breath, for a while. It was only when Connor started dozing off that Hank helped him up, setting him firmly onto his jellied legs.

“So, Connor,” the teacher said. “I think you should know your score by now.”

 _Score? What score?_ Oh. That’s right, Connor was here to take his exam.

“For my final?” Connor asked, only beginning to think properly after having his brains scrambled from fucking his teacher.

Hank smiled that same devilish smile from earlier.

“What else would it be for? Congratulations, Mr. Stern, you passed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos and a comment if you would do _anything_ for Hank, too.  
> Find me @ra9sthiccbicc on twitter.
> 
> Also, I never write in past tense, so this was a challenge for me.


End file.
